


Ghivashel

by plotweaver



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Language Kink, M/M, Somewhat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 16:50:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13528488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plotweaver/pseuds/plotweaver
Summary: Bilbo had proven himself to the company. By and large, he believed that. Even Thorin had warmed up to him. They began to gravitate toward each other, eating meals next to each other, walking side by side throughout the day. By the end of the journey, the bond between Bilbo and Thorin was deep and unshakable.Or so Bilbo thought.-During the post-war negotiations, Thorin calls Bilbo an unfamiliar word. Based on the reactions in the room, it could only be an insult. Right?





	Ghivashel

Bilbo had proven himself to the company. By and large, he believed that. He had stood between Thorin and Azog the Defiler. He had freed them all from the inescapable prison of the Mirkwood Elves. He had led them all from failure and death. He had even begun to think of himself as one of them. Bombur openly welcomed his assistance with cooking meals. Bofur asked Bilbo to teach him some hobbit songs. They all, for the most part, seemed to enjoy chatting with him on the road. 

Even Thorin had warmed up to him. Their embrace at the Carrock was unexpected, but most welcome. It was as if that embrace had crushed any barrier between them. Afterward, Thorin would ask for Bilbo’s opinion over where to set up camp or for some inconsequential tidbit about the Shire. They began to gravitate toward each other, eating meals next to each other, walking side by side throughout the day, and setting up their bedrolls adjacent to each other. Even after the dragon sickness, when Thorin had begged for Bilbo’s forgiveness, Bilbo granted it to him with little effort. He knew Thorin well, and no dragon spell was going to keep them apart. The bond between Bilbo and Thorin was deep and unshakable. 

At least, that’s what Bilbo thought.

-

The aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies held many hardships. Most consisted of broken bones and consoling families. Oddly, Bilbo was no longer riled by such things as dirty bandages. It calmed him to be a part of the healing. What truly tried his patience was the negotiations between the victorious parties. 

Why he was included in the peace talks, Bilbo would never understand. All he knew was that Gandalf always found him before they began and, with a smile that bordered on smug, said that his presence was required. As modest as Bilbo was, he knew that he played a large part in vacating Smaug and reclaiming the mountain. But that was over, and his part was done. The debate for war prices and debts was for kings, and Bilbo was no king. 

Yet, every time he walked into the large dwarven hall where Thorin, Thranduil, and Bard were already assembled with their relevant advisors, his entrance was always regarded with a sense of readiness, as if Bilbo was the last vital piece before negotiations could begin. 

Seeing Thorin in such a setting was breathtaking. He stood regal, but not remote, in the mountain of his ancestors. He wore nothing that denoted him as king save for the deep blue of his robes. Bilbo intimately knew Thorin’s struggles to balance the burden of being a good king against his past crimes of greed, and, in Bilbo’s eyes, it made him nothing short of exceptional. 

In each meeting, Gandalf would push Bilbo to sit directly to Thorin’s right. Every time, Bilbo felt himself grow hot, which he attributed to the nearby fireplace. Then Thranduil would always open with a ridiculous request which Thorin would growl at and present an equally ridiculous counter offer. On and on it would go, with Bard and Bilbo mitigating each side’s claims and thinly veiled insults. 

So Bilbo did not expect much when he placed a gentle hand on Thorin’s arm and whispered, “Could we not draft a new trade agreement? One that favors the road Bard has proposed but perhaps removes the tariffs on dwarven metal? It could counter Erebor’s debts over time.” 

Thorin huffed and exclaimed rather loudly, “Ghivashel, an entirely new agreement would prolong the preparations. We need to open the most direct trade route as soon as possible.”

The air left Bilbo’s lungs. Vaguely, his mind registered a gasp of surprise from the end of the table. Balin, maybe? Bilbo’s cheeks flushed with heat, and the collar of his tunic all of a sudden became too stifling.

All of that was secondary to the thoughts pounding through his head: Thorin called me a horrible name. He insulted me in front of a king of elves and a king of men without care or caution. Is this what he truly thinks of me? That I am made to be cut down with one word?

There was no other explanation for the silence. The air in the room seemed to have been pulled taut, waiting for Bilbo to react to this obvious slight.

The Took in him wanted to rise up and return the insult to the pig-headed, beautiful dolt of a king in front of him. But his quieter, more calculating Baggins side knew that this was not the time nor the place. To debase Thorin now would be to lose the dwarves any respect, however small an amount, Thranduil and Bard may have for them.

Bilbo sunk back into his chair, unable to name the feeling that seemed to turn his heart into lead. It wasn’t just the embarrassment, although that was considerable. Every eye in the room was on him, including Thorin’s. 

Thorin’s mouth was slightly agape, his eyes wide. He looked utterly shocked, as if Bilbo had been the one to insult him, and not the other way around. How dare he look that way - so incredibly vulnerable - when he had made Bilbo feel so incredibly small. It was almost as if Thorin was surprised that the word escaped him. 

How long has he been holding that back? Bilbo thought. All this time, I thought I had earned my place next to him. I thought we were becoming… companions. But he was simply holding back. It was silly of me to think otherwise.

Bilbo’s heart grew heavier as he realized what that horrible feeling at his core was: rejection. 

He tore his eyes away from Thorin’s and addressed the silent table, “Could we not use the direct route for the first few months of trade?”

The tension in the air abated somewhat, and the negotiations resumed. 

Several hours passed, and they still had reached no compromise. The hour for dinner approached, and all had grown restless. Bilbo wanted nothing more than to adjourn to the room given to him in the mountain. He wished for the crackle of a fire and the distraction of a book, but most importantly, the absence of a certain dwarf, as much as his heart may wish otherwise.

“We will resume the negotiations tomorrow,” Thranduil said finally, rising from his chair. Bard quickly followed. Bilbo did not wait for every member of their delegation to leave before slipping out of the room himself. 

He took the most direct corridor to his room. He knew he’d be alone soon, so the hot, illogical tears of hurt and shame were becoming harder to suppress. 

“Bilbo!” 

Far behind him, he heard someone calling for him. He quickened his pace, hoping that the many dwarves he passed would be a barrier to his pursuer. 

“Bilbo, wait!”

A hand gripped Bilbo by the arm and guided him to a nearby alcove in the path. Bilbo looked anywhere but up, where he knew sharp blue eyes would be looking back at him. He eventually focused his gaze downward and saw that Thorin’s free hand was subtly fidgeting, his other having never left Bilbo’s arm.

“I wanted to apologize,” Thorin said.

“Really, there’s no need-”

“I had no right-“

“Honestly, Thorin, it’s not-“

“Please,” Thorin said. His grip relaxed and his hand slid down Bilbo’s arm. If he hadn’t just insulted Bilbo earlier, Bilbo would have called it a caress. The thought left him speechless for just a moment, and Thorin proceeded. 

“You have to know,” the king said quickly, as if the words could not be stopped, “I never meant to disrespect you. I know I have no right to use such a word with you.” 

“I should think not!” Bilbo said. Thorin looked as if Bilbo had smacked him. “In front of all of those people! And after what I’ve done for the quest and for you…” Bilbo’s ire died in his throat. Thorin’s usually sharp gaze had turned soft, and Bilbo could not be angry in the presence of such a look. Especially when what he felt cut so much deeper than anger. “I thought that we had left insults at the Carrock. I thought that you and I were…” Bilbo gestured futilely between them.

“Insults?” Thorin asked. 

“Yes, that rude word that you called me back there. I don’t know what it meant, but it must have been awful to get that reaction.” 

Thorin appeared to be horrified. His free hand moved to cup Bilbo’s face.

“I would never dream of insulting you, ghivashel.”

“There it is again! That word-”

“Which means ‘treasure of all treasures.’”

“Exactly!” Bilbo said before he comprehended Thorin completely. Once the full meaning of the words reached him, his mind struggled to produce a coherent string of words. Thankfully, Thorin did not let him flounder for long.

“For some time now, since the Carrock, I have been referring to you as such in the privacy of my own mind. I did not see the harm in doing so.” Thorin’s thumb moved gently across Bilbo’s cheek. “The negotiations have been trying my patience, and in a moment of emotion, my judgment slipped. It was a matter of time before I could no longer keep that word from you, but I had hoped that you would know what the word meant the first time I used it with you.”

Bilbo’s mind was busier than the Green Dragon on Highday. Never before had his emotions bounced from such an extreme to another. The change made him a bit woozy and, therefore, thankful for Thorin’s grounding touch. Before he could realize what he was doing, he turned his head slightly, leaning in to Thorin’s large, warm hand. 

As if by instinct, they both released a breath at the same moment. Being with Thorin in this way - quiet and gentle - felt just as natural as being together on the journey fighting trolls alongside each other, bickering back and forth, and sharing food when the rations went thin. They had always fit together so naturally, Bilbo realized, once they let themselves get close to one another.

Bilbo leaned forward, and so did Thorin, until their foreheads pressed softly together. The warmth of Thorin’s breath tickled Bilbo’s lips.

“How do you pronounce it?” Bilbo asked.

Thorin smiled before whispering, “Ghivashel.”

Bilbo tried the word on his own tongue. He messed up the accent, but Thorin’s smile grew anyway.

No other words were needed between them. They both leaned forward, lips touching, to claim the sweetest treasure they had ever encountered.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for that cheesy last line; I couldn't help myself.
> 
> I'm back, ya'll! 
> 
> Find me on tumblr at plotweaver.tumblr.com. Leave me a comment on this fic! Look in the mirror and tell yourself that you are gorgeous (because you are)!


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